No Place Like Home
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Scarecrow missing scene: They've got a long night ahead of them.


**No Place Like Home**  
K Hanna Korossy**  
**

"So, you were glad to see me?" Sam asked with a whisper and a smile. He folded his arms and slid a little down in the seat, not yet feeling sleepy but hoping to get there eventually.

"Hmm?" Dean's head rolled his way against the seat back, frowning as it encountered an unfamiliar headrest. "Oh. That was for Emily. So she'd know you're one of the good guys." He glanced into the back, where the reason for their undertones lay sleeping.

"Oh, right." Sam nodded soberly, not fooled for a minute.

Dean had his number, too, giving him a sideways glance before saying, "I _was _glad to hear I've loosened you up a little—stealing a car, dude?" He was smiling as he shook his head. "There's hope for you yet."

"I think the word is 'corrupting,' and I don't plan to make a habit of it," Sam answered defensively.

"Sure."

"I don't!"

"Hey, I'm not arguing." Dean canted his head as he wriggled in the seat, trying to get more comfortable. "Although, next time, maybe you could pick something a little more—"

"—conspicuous? Right, 'cause I want to be driving a stolen car every cop in Indiana's going to notice."

"I was gonna say 'big.' Those long legs of yours are practically in my lap, and I like you, Sam, but…."

Sam glowered at him. "Strangely enough, I wasn't thinking about having to sleep in it when I picked the car."

"I'm just sayin'—"

"Well, don't," Sam said irritably.

Dean looked at him, expression unreadable in the dim light, then back up at the roof of the car. "So, what made you come to Burkittsville?" Wow, he almost managed to pull off casual.

Sam answered grudgingly. "I couldn't reach you for a couple of hours and I…got worried."

No comment on that, even though he knew he'd left himself wide open. Dean just asked neutrally, "Why were you calling?"

"I wanted to see what you'd found out at the college."

Dean scoffed. "What I found out was that my informative professor friend was working both sides of the fence."

"That's when you got hit?" Sam nodded at his bruised face.

Dean rubbed gingerly at his split brow as if he'd forgotten what still had to be an impressive headache. "Yeah. Sheriff with a gunstock in the face. Set-up for the scarecrow with the scythe in the orchard. Sounds like a sick game of _Clue_, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Sam said with an unamused laugh. "Are you all right?"

"Headache." A dismissive shrug. "I've had worse."

Yes, unfortunately, he had. And Sam noticed he still hadn't asked if Sam was back permanently. Sam was pretty sure of the answer, but he didn't feel like bringing it up yet, either. He was silent for a long moment before asking, "Did the professor give you anything useful?"

Dean's eyes were shut but he didn't sound sleepy as he answered. "Yeah, actually. I guess he figured I wouldn't be able to do anything with it. The scarecrow's a Scandinavian god, Vanir. The town's link to it is probably an old tree they brought over with them from Europe—Emily says there's a tree in the orchard they call 'the first tree,' treat it with respect."

"So, we destroy the tree…"

"…we destroy the link. No more sacrifices. I figure we can find and torch it in the morning."

"Right." Sam took a long breath, then quirked a smile at his brother. "Emily?"

One eye opened to frown at him. "Yeah, what about her?" He peered back again, but Sam could hear from her breathing she was deeply under and he couldn't blame her. He'd been there for Dean, but _her_ family had terrified and betrayed her.

Sam shook it off. "Em, the scarecrow, an aunt and uncle—you sure there wasn't a tin man and a lion somewhere, too?"

Dean snorted. He was fully awake again and clearly trying not to look amused. "You see a yellow brick road around here?"

Sam looked out into the claustrophobic gloom of the orchard where he'd just watched a couple be murdered. "No," he said softly. "But I don't think I prefer Kansas."

The heavy silence that followed made him wish he hadn't said that out loud. Dean was watching him obliquely, but all he finally said was, "So, how far did you get?"

Sam took the offered out willingly and laughed. "Never made it out of Indiana, actually. The bus to California was just about to leave when I came back. I was gonna go with this girl Meg I met on the road—I don't think she liked that I changed my mind."

"Was she hot?"

Sam breathed another laugh, glancing over to meet his brother's suddenly interested gaze. "I guess." He punched his brother's arm at Dean's smirk. "It wasn't like that."

"Sure."

"It wasn't!" He caught his rising voice with a guilty look at the back seat, and frowned at Dean. "She was having…family issues, too," he said more quietly.

"Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" Dean asked with a quirk of the eyebrow. "I thought it was just another day with the Winchesters."

Sam shifted onto his side, facing his brother, and pulled up one leg under him. "Dean…I just wanted you to know, about what you said—"

Dean grimaced. "It's late, Sam—go to sleep."

He smiled wryly. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna hug you or anything, I just wanted to say, it goes both ways. I may not always understand or agree with you, but I know you believe in what you do, and I respect that, too."

The groan was theatrical. "Are you done now? 'Cause I'm getting seriously nauseated here." Dean crossed his arms and settled into a tacitly do-not-disturb sleeping position.

"Yeah," Sam said unsympathetically, "I wouldn't want to make your headache any worse."

"Too late," Dean grumbled. "Shut up and let me sleep."

Sam obeyed for a few minutes, letting his eyes close and his body sink into the upholstery. It was cozy in a mashed, balled-up kind of way, but the thoughts rolling through his head wouldn't slow down. He couldn't help notice his brother's breathing wasn't softening, either.

Dean finally broke the quiet. "After we finish off the tree, we're gonna find my car."

Sam had already heard about the missing Impala a few times on the way out of the orchard, and if Emily hadn't been with them, it probably would have been in a lot stronger language. "You have any idea where to look?" he asked, eyes still comfortably closed.

"I'm gonna try Emily's uncle's garage first. It's gotta be around here somewhere. Unless they left it over at the school." A huff of frustration. "This sucks—I hate not knowing where my car is. They probably stripped the gears or dented it or something."

"Left it smelling like apples…"

"Oh, God, you think so?"

Sam's mouth twitched. "Sacrificing couples to their god is bad," he drawled, "but messing with your car is really unforgivable?"

"Exactly."

He shook his head fondly at Dean's outrage. "There is something really wrong with the way you think, man." He sighed, leaned back against the door. "Emily'll probably need to pack—I don't think she's going to want to stay here. We'll find the car in the meantime, leave this one here, okay?"

"We could always go look for the car before—"

He tossed his brother a glare, which, considering Dean's eyes were shut, was mostly wasted. "_After_ we destroy the link to Vanir."

"Fine, whatever," Dean muttered, hunkering down in his seat.

Sam smiled at the petulant act that always made him feel like the older brother, and realized with a startlingly deep pang how much he'd missed this. They'd only been on the road six months, but already life without his brother at his side seemed unnatural. Incomplete. Sam wasn't quite sure what he thought about that, but at least he had his answer to Dean's still-unspoken question.

He closed his eyes and found a mostly comfortable position. Dean was right, the car was uncomfortably small for sleeping, and Sam found himself missing the Impala. Which he would never, ever tell Dean.

Nor how much Sam had missed him.

"You wanna play Twenty Questions?" Dean whispered hopefully next to him.

Sam smiled. There were a lot of ways to say something, however. "Okay."

And night gave way to a new day.

**The End**


End file.
